


Principles

by timkons



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Lists, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timkons/pseuds/timkons
Summary: Akaashi has a list of Bokuto's weaknesses. Bokuto has a list of Akaashi's principles.





	Principles

It’s not even practice, and Akaashi is stressed.

Bokuto can tell because Akaashi is squinting and Akaashi only ever squints like _that_ whenever Bokuto isn’t listening to an important point he’s trying to make, Akaashi wants him to spike the ball as a straight _not_ a cross, or he’s hungry while Bokuto is eating a delicious sandwich in front of him. Bokuto doesn’t have a sandwich, there aren’t any balls to spike, and Bokuto is listening to Akaashi’s every single word, which means it must be an Akaashi thing.

Akaashi does these things sometimes, these little repetitions that Bokuto’s noticed over time and sorted into the back of his mind. Bokuto calls them principles because samurais have principles and Akaashi is cool like a samurai, and it also sounds like a word Akaashi would use.

This one so happens to be Principle Eleven: a man’s life is one of solitude.

Bokuto sighs out loud, but Akaashi doesn’t even bat an eyelash in his direction, his thoughts louder than Bokuto’s sighs. Bokuto watches Akaashi for a few more seconds to make sure, but Akaashi’s definitely doing the thing. The thing where Akaashi locks himself away in his head and doesn’t let anybody else in. Maybe Akaashi ate something that hurt his stomach or he flunked his math test? (Bokuto grinds his teeth, remembering his own failed mark in the subject.)

Neither of those things sound like Akaashi, but Bokuto doesn’t really know because Akaashi never tells him these things. He respects Akaashi’s principles, but he also knows when it’s time to rely on others too.

“You feelin’ okay?” Bokuto asks while bumping his shoulder against Akaashi’s, well aware that Akaashi isn’t okay. There’s other little tells besides his squint: the way Akaashi’s shoulders are stiffly held instead of the flexible, supple shoulders Bokuto knows so well on the court, ready to set in Bokuto’s direction. There’s also the way Akaashi’s jaw is locked so that nobody knows something is wrong, as though maintaining a comfortable, non-bothered look takes all his focus and effort. Still, Bokuto asks casually and leers with a smile, not revealing that he’s onto Akaashi.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Akaashi lies. Or maybe he furrows his brow like that because he doesn’t realize his tells himself. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Bokuto bites his lip so that his grin doesn’t show too much. He can never let Akaashi know that sometimes he knows Akaashi better than Akaashi knows himself, but Bokuto’s always been bad at secrets. He tries to cover up these delicate parts of himself in a loud voice and open gestures, but it’s still hard for Bokuto to pretend that he doesn’t have a curry roll in his shoe locker. He was really looking forward to eating it, but Akaashi needs this more, Bokuto thinks. He leans over Akaashi and dramatically drapes an arm over his shoulder. “If you’re feeling so good, then how about buying your senpai lunch?”

“You forgot _again,”_ Akaashi says pointedly, though in a tone different from the unforgiving stiffness he’s had for the past last hour. It’s a certain tone Akaashi take on when he’s proud of himself, a tone of reliability that Bokuto loves as much as Akaashi himself. “I will today, but this is the last time. Please remember your lunch from now on.”

“I will!” Bokuto promises, knowing that he’s absolutely going to ‘forget’ his lunch next time it seems like Akaashi needs to focus on somebody other than himself. “Thanks, Akaashi! You’re the man!”

And just like that, Akaashi allows Bokuto to pull him toward the cafeteria, Bokuto walking down the hall backwards so he can keep looking at the ghost of a smile gracing Akaashi’s lips. Bokuto feels weightless and too small to contain the feeling bubbling in his chest.

Akaashi says something -- something like a, ‘please try to remember, Bokuto-san,’ or something else very Akaashi-like -- but Bokuto’s too busy smiling at Akaashi’s clear green eyes and how they aren’t clouded by the riddled thoughts anymore to remember anything else.

“There’s no way I’ll forget,” Bokuto vows, thinking of something entirely different than lunch.

-

These things Bokuto knows about Akaashi, they’re nothing so organized that Bokuto would call them notes, but he knows these things from months of watching Akaashi, playing beside him, mooning over him. Even Akaashi’s annoyed expression -- the fourth kind of his grimaces -- is as dear and special to Bokuto as Akaashi’s soft smiles or rare praises; and Bokuto knows _all_ the different varieties of those too, even though he swears there must be more.

“Your tosses were extra good today!” Bokuto booms in a proud voice, slapping Akaashi on the back repeatedly after practice. With every slap of his palm against Akaashi’s back, the slightly angry curve to Akaashi’s brow gets lesser and lesser. Bokuto likes it best when Akaashi praises him, but sometimes he thinks Akaashi needs praise too.

Principle Two: a man gives praise only when it is warranted.

-

Normally during games, Akaashi’s the one who keeps his cool and Bokuto’s the one who throws tantrums, not the other way around. Bokuto’s pretty sure the rest of the team never notices, and he likes it that way because if they knew _Akaashi_ was having problems, the team would surely fall apart. It’s all thanks to Principle Twenty: a man leads with the full weight of responsibility on his shoulders so that his team’s shoulders may be weightless.

The thing is: Akaashi’s tantrums don’t look like Bokuto’s. Bokuto knows he throws himself at the ground or hits balls into the net on purpose, venting his frustration in the way his mind and body impulsively demand. Akaashi’s venting is quieter; it’s refusing to set to Konoha because Konoha messed up on a synchronized attack, it’s sharply glaring at the opposing team’s setter because there’s a super secret setter-to-setter battle of pride going on.

Bokuto’s no expert at multiple choice questions, but he knows that when Akaashi’s lips thin like that, it means Bokuto has four options:

  1. Capture Akaashi’s attention by doing something amazing! (He can’t worry about himself if he’s looking at you! But this will only delay his mood for a little bit… Not a permanent fix.)
  2. Apologize! (It’s okay if you don’t know for what, apologize anyway! Note: it can backfire if Akaashi is skeptical of the apology…)
  3. Use that nickname Akaashi likes so much! (Seriously, he likes it! Even if he shakes his head and sighs at you! Quick and works in a pinch. The most reliable way to show Akaashi that you care, and he listens to whatever you follow it up with.)
  4. Spike an amazing kill! (Only works during a game.)



_‘Principle Twenty is such a pain in the ass,’_ Bokuto think to himself, _‘but number three it is!’_

“Nice dump, Agashee!” Bokuto chirps, slurring together the sounds of Akaashi’s name in that way Akaashi loves but never admits to liking. “I’m gonna slam the ball right between those two extra tall blockers!”

Sure enough, Akaashi looks away from the opposing team’s setter, and when his eyes settle on Bokuto, they’re sharp, but not in that cruel and unrelenting way they were before. “Please don’t give away our strategy to the other team.”

Bokuto grins. Option three definitely worked, and now it’s time to combine options one and four. Sometimes it’s tricky like this, when Bokuto has to combine alternatives, but it’s definitely worth it, after Bokuto’s palm begins to sting, having crushed through their opposing team’s blockers and libero’s flying dive, and Akaashi’s mouth twists in a playful smirk.

-

It’s rare, but Akaashi has some bad days too. Bokuto knows Akaashi tries not to let it show and Bokuto even feels a little guilty about that, knowing his unpredictable moodiness is why Akaashi has to be the consistent, steady presence on the team.

Principle Thirty-two: a man is as constant as the sun.

As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, Akaashi completes all tasks -- and beyond expectation, at that. But Akaashi isn’t just the sun; he’s the moon too, because Akaashi isn’t just reliable for their team. Bokuto knows he could never do everything Akaashi does: Akaashi always gets his homework turned in on time, never forgets to brush his teeth, and also does all of his chores before dinner. Bokuto can’t imagine a life like that, but here they are, sitting on opposite ends of the table in Akaashi’s room instead of playing that new video game because Akaashi _wants_ to finish his homework first.

“You’re not even pretending to do your homework,” Akaashi points out, not bothering to look up from where he writes in another kanji for his vocabulary assignment.

Bokuto blinks the sleep away with some effort. It’s difficult to concentrate when all he can focus on is the spot where his cheek and a little bit of his drool pool on his history essay. Usually he’d respond, ‘I’m bored!’ or, ‘it’s snack time!’ but the way Akaashi’s brows are furrowed so deep that they’re about to meet in the middle of his face concerns Bokuto. As much as everybody would like to believe that Akaashi never has a problem handling the weight of the world, Bokuto knows a secret nobody else on the team seems to know. It’s impossible to imagine, but Akaashi is just as human and unhinged as everybody else.

And so Bokuto says: “Isn’t it unfair that a centipede can never be a centipede?”

It’s just for a moment, but Akaashi flinches. His eyes pause from where he’s scanning the page, and Bokuto smirks, knowing that Akaashi took a second to actually _think_ about it. “Aren’t you doing history homework?”

“No, it’s biology,” Bokuto lies easily, wadding up his shitty essay before Akaashi can sneak a peek and scold him for it. He was going to scrap it and ask to copy Konoha’s anyway. “We’re studying bugs and it’s really tragic about centipedes! They always have an uneven number of feet, so they can’t ever have a hundred legs.”

“I see,” is all Akaashi says, but when he looks up, there’s a gentle smile on his face. “And why are you bringing up centipedes all of a sudden?”

Bokuto perks up with a bright smile. Turned away from his homework, Bokuto has all of Akaashi’s attention to himself. “Well I wanted to ask you! What would be the true name for a centipede?”

“If a centipede has less than a hundred legs, you mean?” Akaashi’s face is trained in an expressionless wariness, but Bokuto’s already shifting in place excitedly, knowing Akaashi’s going to play along.

“Or more. They can have hundreds,” Bokuto says offhandedly. It’s the sole piece of information he remembers from his lesson earlier, but he’ll have to start paying attention more in biology because he’d like to see that smile Akaashi’s smiling at him more often. This one is new, fond and proud, and it makes Bokuto’s palms sweaty. “What if it had thirty legs?”

The smile disappears and Akaashi looks at Bokuto with such an intensity that Bokuto’s worried he’s said something wrong. After five seconds of unrelenting staring and with that same intense focus, Akaashi says, “trigintapede.”

“What?”

“It would be called a trigintapede. That’s Latin for thirty.” Akaashi sets his pencil aside and even closes his kanji dictionary.

“Ohhh!” Bokuto says in awe, drawing out the sound. Feeling more at ease with Akaashi’s unexpected but wonderful answer, Bokuto props his elbows on the table and leans forward. The sleepiness from earlier is gone, and all he can feel is excitement about Akaashi following his antics. “But what if it has a hundred and thirty?”

“Then it would be a centitrigintapede,” Akaashi replies immediately and calmly, a slight curve to his lips. “I think.”

“And a hundred and thirty-three?”

This time Akaashi breathes in deeply and shakes his head. “Well that’s just ridiculous.”

“But a trigaguntapede isn’t?” Bokuto asks defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out his bottom lip.

Bokuto holds his face for as long as he can, but he feels the tickle in his throat and Akaashi’s face is turning red. Akaashi’s lips wobble first, but Bokuto’s body betrays himself, letting out a snort and then full blown laughter. He bends over the table, clutching his sides as he tries to say it.

“Wait! I can say it! Treegin-- Trigingin--”

 _“Trigintapede,”_ Akaashi barely corrects, laughing so hard that he has to cover his mouth. There are slight speckles welling at his eyes, but Bokuto feels too happy to call any attention to them.

“Ah man… I guess it is better just to call it a centipede,” Bokuto muses once he’s caught his breath.

“Much better than calling it a centitrigintapede,” Akaashi agrees, smiling.

-

“Akaashi looks mad.”

“Bokuto did something that annoyed him again.”

“Bokuto’s done it this time.”

Bokuto blocks out the gossip as he runs up to where Akaashi’s waiting by the doors to the gym, wearing a small, tight frown. “Are you ready to go, Bokuto-san?”

“Yup!” Bokuto replies back so energetically that the ‘P’ pops. He hears the whispers behind him rumoring that Akaashi’s going to discipline Bokuto, but Bokuto knows it’s not true. Akaashi gets a weird look on his face like he’s annoyed whenever he feels affectionate, but so what? Bokuto thinks it’s cute. It feels special that Bokuto can tell Akaashi’s intense scowl is actually an intense display of affection, an endearing quirk that only Bokuto seems to realize about Akaashi, making it all the more special.

Besides, Principle Eight: a man cares nothing of other’s words.

He comfortably swings his bag over one shoulder and bumps the other against Akaashi’s. “Going straight home today?”

“Yes,” Akaashi says, softly, though his face is still caught between bored and sour. “Unless there’s some place you want to go?”

“Home is fine,” Bokuto says with a shrug, but Akaashi’s lips purse together and make a sound like he’s holding a laugh back. “What’s so funny?”

Akaashi’s eyelashes flicker up to the clouds and the back to the concrete. Bokuto begins to pout, thinking Akaashi’s forgotten his question, but Akaashi’s eyes catch his and hold him in place. “You say, ‘home,’ as if my home is yours.”

Bokuto’s smile feels wobbly and his stomach starts to flip as if little gymnasts live in there. It seems like the kind of question that could make or break them, so he points up to the heavy clouds above them instead. “Did I? Didn’t even notice. But hey, look! It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Akaashi’s not naive enough to be distracted by such a simple thing, but the weather gods are on his side. No sooner than said, the sky comes alive with the rumble of soft thunder and a whip of lightning. The soft spring showers begin to fall immediately, leaving little time for either one to pull out his umbrella.

Ever the responsible one, Akaashi is the one to reach his umbrella first. As usual, he holds it in his left hand, even if it is at an awkward angle that leaves their shoulders and knuckles bumping against each other. They huddle together, shoulders wet and hair dripping. It’s colder bunched up together in wet clothes like this than separated under their separated umbrella’s dry solace, but neither of them make a move to dig out Bokuto’s umbrella. “You’ve cursed us.”

“Sorry,” Bokuto says, but it’s a lie. He’d curse them again if it meant huddling up so close that every time he takes a step, his heart skips a beat and his pinkie brushes against Akaashi’s. Accident or not, his heart nearly drops when Akaashi’s pinky hooks around his.

If Akaashi’s grasp on the umbrella is dangerously balancing or shaky, Bokuto’s not about to call him out on it. Bokuto’s heart feels like it’s pumping in his throat and he’s looking straight ahead because he doesn’t dare look at Akaashi. His hand feels like it’s warmed by firelight and sunshine, even though it’s nothing more than Akaashi’s skin on his own.

Bokuto’s so focused on that tiny bit of contact that he forgets to talk until they’re right in front of the gate to Akaashi’s house. Bokuto was pretty sure he’d hallucinated it, but that has to be wrong because it had to happen if Akaashi’s letting go of his hand now.

“Take it,” Akaashi says, offering his umbrella even though Bokuto knows Akaashi knows that Bokuto has one. “You can give it back to me tomorrow.”

Bokuto takes it, only because Akaashi’s frowning in that adorable way he loves so much and his face is redder than Bokuto ever recalls ever seeing it. “I’ll definitely remember.”

“Please do.”

-

Bokuto practically skips home, feeling lighter than sunshine and unable to train his smile down. Bokuto loves every principle because he loves Akaashi, but this one has to be his favorite.

Principle one: a man in love must shelter his heart and cherish his feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to hmu on [tumblr](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/cloneboys), or [consider commissioning me](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/post/162750545663/commission-me)!


End file.
